


Long gone are the days

by thevernacularium



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Lives, F/M, Fluff, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Mentions of Cancer, Post-Canon Fix-It, Protective Arthur, Romance, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, no beta we die like cowboys, questionably safe sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevernacularium/pseuds/thevernacularium
Summary: The post-game modern ranching AU that nobody asked for. Featuring such modern things as Arthur on a motorbike, surviving cancer, fixing trucks, and more!“That your bike out front?”Arthur turned towards her. Her sharp green eyes caught his. “Might be.” He said with a half smile. “What makes you think so?”“Well I know every man and every bike in this county and I don’t recognize you or the ride…. Could say I’m an expert at deductive reasoning.” She tapped a finger to her temple.“Alright then Sherlock.”“Maggie.” She held out her hand to him “Maggie French.”“Arthur Morgan.” He grasped her hand. She had a firm grip, and he could feel the callouses on her palm. “Pleased to meet you.”
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For real though.... don’t invite strangers into your house. It’s unlikely that they are soulful cowboys with hearts of gold. 
> 
> I don’t really know where this story is going. Mature for future chapters. 
> 
> This idea has been living rent free in my brain.

Arthur parked his bike in front of the bar and scanned up and down the street. He’d driven through most of backroad Arizona over the years but had somehow never been to this particular town. It seemed like a pretty standard desert town, a single Main Street lined with the typical gas station, bar, diner and general store. A few locals were milling around, and he caught the scrutiny in their gaze. This was a town that didn’t see many outsiders. It was well off the interstate, and showed the signs of a town that had perhaps been larger before the I-10 diverted traffic away from the back highways. 

Arthur preferred these places off the beaten track. He’d just spent a few weeks in Phoenix on some god awful job for a friend of a friend and was ready to leave the city behind. 

It was hot out, the sun beat down heavy on the tarmac. He shucked off his riding jacket and leaned on his bike, staring idly down the street. He ran a large hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. John had been needling him about the length of his hair, but Arthur found that he was becoming fond of the extra length. He sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the sun beating down on his bare arms, and cautiously looking around the street. These small towns were rarely as quaint and sleepy as they seemed at first blush, but so far nothing had raised any red flags for him. With a sigh he grabbed his jacket and walked into the bar next door. It had old style swinging doors, and the sign over the doorway read “Big Al’s”. 

The bar was dim, and hosted an old juke box, a beat up pool table, and several square tables. The polished wood surface of the bar harkened back to old western saloons. There were a couple of old guys leaning on the bar, one talking animatedly to the barkeep. The barkeep was a tall, thick built fella, who raised a hand to greet Arthur as he walked towards the bar. Arthur ordered a beer and the barkeep filled a pint glass for him. The barroom was dark, and had a haze in the air that these old saloons all tended to have. The building had to be a hundred years old, and was likely a bar for the better part of that time. Based on the interior motif, it was unlikely that much had been changed at all since construction.

“Where you in from?” the barkeep asked.

Arthur took a sip “Phoenix most recently. Just passin’ through.”

The barkeep nodded “A little off the beaten track for just passin’ through.”

Arthur shrugged “Never liked the freeway. Prefer the open country.”

The barkeep grunted in assent. He seemed content with Arthur’s answer as he shuffled back towards the old timer at the end of the bar. 

Willie Nelson was playing through the tinny speakers. Arthur sipped his beer slowly, enjoying the feeling of the condensation on the glass. 

The bar doors swung open and a woman walked in. She was dressed in worn ranch clothing, an oversized chore coat with the sleeves rolled up, patched jeans, and beat up leather boots. She had a large, wide brimmed hat, with two neat braids hung down past her shoulders. She waved to the barkeep as she approached the bar. “Hey Al,” she called, leaning over the bar and filling herself a pint glass from the beer tap. “I’m grabbin’ a beer. Put it on my tab.” the barkeep nodded and went back to his conversation. She had a soft accent that Arthur couldn’t quite place. The women pulled up a stool a few seats down from Arthur and took a drink from her glass. She gave Arthur a quick glance but said nothing. She looked to be in her mid thirties. She was slightly built but held herself with strength and confidence. 

The barkeep - it seemed to Arthur that he must be “Big Al” - wandered down to the end of the bar to greet the woman. 

“You get that truck fixed yet?” Al asked her, wiping down the bartop with a rag. 

She shrugged. “No, I’ve been waiting for some parts. Murph called this morning and said they’re in. Gonna fix it up this week and then I should be back on track.”

“You live too far outta town to be without a reliable vehicle Maggie. Why don’t you talk to Murph about something newer?”

The woman gave a soft laugh and shook her head “C’mon we both know all his rigs have been pulled outta the scrap heap, and I’m kind of attached to the old truck at this point. Besides, I’ve got the horses if I really need to get someplace. Not like I’m ever in a real hurry to get anywhere these days.”

“You bring Nicks in today then?”

She nodded. “Yeah hitched her out front, hope that’s alright.”

“Of course. That horse is better behaved than most of the rabble we have in this town anyway.” Al reached into the bar cooler and pulled out some celery, handing it to the woman “ give her a treat from me will ya?” 

“I’ll make sure she knows it’s from you.” She smiled and tucked the celery stalks into her pocket, the leafy ends sticking out .

“You ever replace a timing belt before?” Al gave her a questioning look. 

“No, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out. These old trucks aren’t all that complicated.”

“Ok, just never took you for a grease monkey is all.”

“C’mon Al,” she laughed “you should know me well enough by now to know I’ll try anything once.”

“I tell you, when you first got to town, we had a pool on how long you’d last out there on your own.”

She laughed at that “I keep telling people I’m stronger than I look. And just ‘cause I’m new to here doesn’t mean I’m new to hard work.”

Al put up his hands in defense “ I know, I know… . You really oughta bring on some hands for that ranch one of these days though... That’s a lotta land to work by yourself.” 

She hummed in agreement. “Yeah maybe one of these days. Problem is folk want to be paid for their work. Can’t pay ‘em in promises and good intentions.” Al shuffled back down to the end of the bar. The woman sat with her drink for a moment before turning towards Arthur. 

“That your bike out front?”

Arthur turned towards her. Her sharp green eyes caught his. “Might be.” He said with a half smile. “What makes you think so?”

“Well I know every man and every bike in this county and I don’t recognize you or the ride…. Could say I’m an expert at deductive reasoning.” She tapped a finger to her temple.

“Alright then Sherlock.” 

“Maggie.” She held out her hand to him “Maggie French.” 

“Arthur Morgan.” He grasped her hand. She had a firm grip, and he could feel the callouses on her palm. “Pleased to meet you.”

“What are you doing in Crossfield?” She raised one eyebrow “This isn’t exactly a tourist destination.

“Yeah I’m getting that impression. Been in town 10 minutes and I’m already getting the third degree from the locals.” He took a swig of his beer and was quiet for a moment. “Honestly I’m not sure what I’m doin here. Just got some time to kill and felt like getting away for a while.” 

He wasn’t sure why he told her. He had a habit of brushing off questions like that, but something about her made him want to keep talking. 

“Had a job that went…. well it didn’t go great. Had to get outta town for a while.” 

She chuckled and looked him over “That's a sentiment I can relate to. Don’t worry, Crossfield is a fine place to hide from your problems. I’ve been here 3 years and my biggest worry since then is that my fuckin truck won’t run”

“What kind of truck?” 

“ ‘70 Ford Ranger. Ran OK till a few weeks ago. And there’s an ‘85 Bronco I’m hoping to bring back from the dead as well. Could say I’m a farmer of busted vehicles.”

Arthur gave a whistle. “‘70 Ranger… that’s a fine truck.” 

“Yeah timing belt is fried as near as I can tell, but to be honest I’m not much of a mechanic so we’ll see how it goes.”

He paused and looked down at his beer. “Could take a look if you want? I’ve done some mechanic work in my day.” 

She looked at him seriously. “Really?” 

He shrugged “It's no trouble. Not like I got anywhere to be.”

“You staying in town?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” 

She scrutinized him for a moment, staring at him like she was trying to read his thoughts. “Tell you what,” she said finally “You take a look at the truck, and you can stay on the property. It ain’t much but I’ve got an old Boler that’s still in livable condition.” 

“You seem awful trusting of strangers ma’am.” 

She smiled and gave him a serious look and leaned in conspiratorially. “Not really... see Al here is gonna see us leave together and he knows where I Iive. He also likes me a whole bunch… kinda like the daughter he never had or somethin’. If I don’t show up as expected, he’ll know exactly who he needs to hunt down. He’s got a history of treating folk violent when they deserve it. The boys ‘round here all know their way around a firearm and ain’t real quick to call the sheriff if you catch my meaning.”

Arthur gave a small cough “Understood. Loud and clear.” He turned to look at Al, who was watching him closely from the end of the bar. It was then he noticed the revolver on Al’s belt. Arthur gave the man a small salute. Al crossed his arms and nodded.

They made plans to meet at her property later in the afternoon. She scratched out a rough map on a napkin, along with a phone number “The address doesn’t really turn up on GPS or anything, and the cell service is spotty. I have land line out there though, so if you get lost, just give me a holler.”

He followed her out of the bar. She waved to Al on the way out.

Arthur had some time to kill while Maggie ran errands in town, He walked the length of the main street, bought a few things at the general store and then fired up his bike to slowly work his way out towards her ranch. It was beautiful countryside. Hot and dry, as was to be expected in southern Arizona, but the lonely hills around him were somehow comforting. He’d always kind of liked the wild desert. He turned off the paved highway onto a gravel road at the junction indicated on her little map, following the bumpy track for a few miles before coming to a halt in front of a small gate indicating he’d arrived at the “Frenchie’s Ranch”.

There was a small, midcentury homesteader cabin on the property, a couple of old trucks, and, as promised, a sun bleached boler trailer parked next to the house. The property also hosted a barn, a paddock, and a large garden, rigged up with irrigation equipment. The lush green of the garden was offset by the otherwise arid land surrounding the house. Cacti and short tufts of grass dotted the landscape. He parked his bike next to the Ranger and walked over the paddock, leaning one boot on the fence slats. There was a horse and a donkey lazing in the shade by the barn, and he could see a chicken coup with a few Bantam hens pecking at the ground. 

One of the horses walked over to the fence and huffed at him. He ran a cautious hand over it’s nose and she snorted appreciatively, leaning into his touch. He’d spent some time with horses in the past, but not enough to feel truly comfortable with the large animals.

“Seems like she likes you.” Maggie’s voice came from behind him. He turned to see her riding towards him on a large dapple grey mare. She climbed down from the horse and led it into the paddock. “That one’s Stevie” she said, indicating the bay mare that Arthur was petting. “This one’s Nicks.” she nodded towards the Dapple. “The donkey’s named Mick.”

“I’m picking up on a theme there.” Arthur laughed.

“There used to be a dog named Fleetwood, sorta came with the property, but he died last year. C’mon I’ll show you around the place.”

She toured him around the barn, where she dropped off the saddle she’d taken off Nicks, then turned towards the house.

“It isn’t much really, but this is home.” She directed him to the Boler and he dropped off his things. 

“C’mon in, we’ll have something cold to drink and then we can take a look at the truck once it cools down a bit.”

He followed her into the house and the both left their boots at the entry. It was a simple structure, and looked more or less unchanged since it was built. He guessed that it was an early ‘50s build. The kitchen appliances looked to be original, a little gas oven, and an old turquoise enameled fridge. The only real modernizations he could see were a A/C unit hanging from the window, and a shiny computer in one corner. It looked almost out of place among the hardwood and vintage furniture. The space was small, but tidy. He saw a guitar and a mandolin leaned in one corner, and an old record player along one wall. 

“Quite the place you got her Miss French.”

She shrugged. “It works for me. You’re welcome in the house of course, bathroom’s down the hall, help yourself to whatever you need in the kitchen. We don’t lock the doors this far out, just make sure the front door latch actually catches or you’ll let out all the cold air.”

They sat on the porch under the shade of the awning on worn out plastic chairs sipping their beer and surveying the land. 

“How long you been out here?” he asked

“About 3 years. Needed to get away from…. From everything really. A place like this can be a fresh start. Didn’t know the first thing about desert living when I got here, but I love it. There’s a simplicity in the desert that you don’t get anywhere else. Your needs are simple. Water, food, shelter. I think it helps to strip away all the bullshit you know?”

He nodded in agreement and took a swig from his bottle. 

“Where you from?” He asked. “‘Bin tryna figure out your accent and I can’t.”

She laughed. “Canada” she said simply. “But I’ve been all over.”

“Canada… geez… how do you deal with the heat.” It was bullshit small talk, but he didn’t know where else to start.

She laughed. “People can get used to anything.Though I do have a soft spot for days so cold your eyelashes freeze together.”

“Can’t say i’ve ever experienced that… can’t say I care to either.” he gave her a smile. She reciprocated. 

“So Phoenix?” she asked “That where you’re from?”

Arthur was silent and stared at his bottle.

“Sorry” she said, “I don't mean to pry. You don’t have to answer my questions. Everyone’s got history.” 

“Naw” he said quietly “ don’t worry about it. Was just there for a job. Haven’t really stayed anywhere long enough to call home for a lotta years. Lived on the road most of my life. Don’t much care for cities to be honest.”

“A down home country boy then?”

“Wouldn’t go that far.” he paused and sipped at his beer. “I like these wide open spaces though. You know where you stand with country folk. They don’t have the time to put on airs. Too busy living I guess. The city makes folk dishonest, to themselves as much as to others.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it.”

Arthur shrugged “I’ve spent enough time with liars, thieves, and cheats to know that no good comes from getting too entrenched in civilization.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there cowboy.”

Arthur gave a low laugh. “Maybe.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Maggie work on the truck and talk about life, death, and things in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True things from this chapter:
> 
> 1) You cannot get Hatch Valley chilies in Canada. My friend from New Mexico mails them to me.  
> 2) Edward Abbey is a controversial cantankerous old Bastard  
> 3) The Triumph Bonneville is the coolest looking bike  
> 4) Every prairie kid has picked rocks and helped tag farm animals. Even townies like me.

Maggie gave him a long look and then diverted the conversation to more neutral ground. She told him about her ranch. She’d bought the property three years earlier when she moved from Canada. The property was largely undeveloped but had some reasonable grazing land despite the arid environment. 

Maggie had no real ranching or farming background, but had apparently taken to solitary homesteading quite well. “ I grew up on the prairies,” she said with a laugh” but I was a city girl. I mean, by rural standards anyway. I knew how to ride a bit and I had friends that grew up on farms, but it’s not like I had experience in anything more than tagging a few goats and picking a few rocks before I got the place.” 

“Seems like a big change.” Arthur kept his gaze on her, the late afternoon light danced in her hair.

She shrugged “Sometimes a big change is needed.” She didn’t elaborate. He didn’t pry. 

She told him that she leased out her land to some local farmers for a bit of passive income and focused mostly on her homestead. She had a couple of acres that had been developed into farmable land near the house. She grew a variety of fruits and vegetables, both for herself, and to sell to others nearby. 

In addition to the large garden, she had the two horses, the donkey, about a dozen chickens, and two milk cows. Aside from the horses and the chickens, the other animals came with the property. 

“I’ve been really happy here.” She told him “Really wasn’t sure that I would be when I first moved down, but this place has a way of growing on you.” 

The sun dipped behind the hills and the air cooled down a bit. Maggie hauled some tools out of the barn and Arthur set to work on the truck. She had been right, the timing belt was shot. She watched over his shoulder and he patiently explained how to go about fixing it. 

He’d always found peace in mechanic work. “There’s something about machines” he told Maggie “There’s a way they need to be in order to run and fixing ‘em basically boils down to finding the piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit anymore. One thing outta place and the whole system breaks down.” He sometimes had troubles putting his feelings into words, but this made sense to him. 

“Geez, you make fixing a truck sound so poetic.” She said “feels like I should be taking notes or something. You gonna ask for an essay on this?” 

He huffed a laugh, his head still under the hood, cranking a bolt tight “Not a bad idea” he said “2000 words on the automobile engine as a metaphor for life.”

She laughed. “Ok professor, but I think someone already wrote the book on that.” She took a step into the house and returned with a well worn copy of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ , flashing the cover at him _._ Arthur recognized it, Dutch had bought him a copy of his 18th birthday.

“Well,” he said with a smile “I’m no philosopher but I’d say the author was onto something.” He put his wrench to the side and dropped the hood with a bang. “That should do it.” He wiped his hands on a rag. “Go fire her up.” 

She hopped in the driver side and Arthur climbed into the passenger seat. She turned the key and the truck sputtered into action. She let it idle for a moment, Arthur listening carefully to the engine sounds. “Let’s take ‘er for a lap.” He instructed. She wheeled the trunk around in the driveway and set off up the bumpy track leading towards the highway. 

He was thoughtful for a few minutes while they drove “Seems like she’s running’ fine, but that starter didn’t sound real healthy.” He said after a while. 

“Yeah.” Maggie sighed as she pulled a u-turn at the next intersection “I was worried about that. Murph said he might have a starter for me out at the junkyard for a good price.” 

“Ok, let’s head to the junkyard tomorrow and then we’ll replace that too.” Arthur said with a nod. 

Maggie looked at him curiously “You sure? You’ve already done me a big favour.”

He ran a hand over his chin. “I really don’t have anywhere to be.” He said eventually. “ ‘sides, I like doing this sorta thing. Don’t get to work on trucks that much anymore.” He paused. “Unless you want me outta your hair that is.”

She shook her head “It’s kinda nice having someone else around. I’ve been alone out here for a while. Folks in town are nice, but my nearest neighbour is a ways out so it can get kind of lonesome sometimes.” 

They were quiet for the drive back to the ranch. After Maggie parked the truck, Arthur packed up the tools while she went to feed the horses and chickens. She had an old green tool box with chipped paint that housed most of her hand tools. “It was my Granddad’s” she told him “I don’t have much in the way of family heirlooms, but he gave me his tools. Means a lot to me.”

That night she made dinner for the two of them. Calabacitas and roast chicken. The chicken had been one of her yearling roosters, and the veggies in the calabacitas had been grown on her land. 

The meal was delicious. Arthur could honestly say it was the best food he’d eaten that year. The chicken practically fell off the bone. He’d never had calabacitas before but they could easily make the list of his favourite foods “ The key is the green chilie” Maggie had told him “ there’s nothing quite like a New Mexico chili. When I lived up north I used to bring cases back across the border whenever I came back from the south. You just can’t get Hatch Valley green chili in Canada.” 

* * *

Arthur woke the next morning to the sound of a rooster. He had slept well, better than he had in a long time. Sunlight filtered gently through the window of the trailer, but it was still early enough that the blazing heat of day hadn’t invaded the Boler quite yet. He rose, stretched his arms, and dressed in a thin t-shirt and dark jeans. He threw a well worn flannel shirt overtop and he opened the door. 

Maggie was sitting on the porch with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. She smiled when she saw him approach “Mornin’ “ he greeted her. “You been up for a while?” 

She shrugged and closed her book “I’m a bit of an early riser. Helps to get chores done before the heat hits.” She rose from the chair and motioned towards the door. “You hungry? I was just about to make some breakfast.” 

Arthur’s stomach growled and he nodded. They walked into the house and she poured him a cup of coffee. She pulled a pack of bacon wrapped in wax paper from the fridge and lay several slices in a cast iron pan on the stove. 

“What were you reading this morning?” He asked, between bites of huevos rancheros.

“ _The Monkey Wrench Gang_.” She replied “Edward Abbey”

“Abbey…geez, you some sort of enviro anarchist?” He remembered Dutch telling him about Abbey, a radical environmentalist, railing against the establishment. Not that Dutch was an environmentalist per se, but he tended to side with anyone who expressed anarchistic views. 

She laughed “I lean more towards optimistic nihilism than pure anarchism I think. Abbey seems like an contradictory old crank in a lot of ways, but he’s kind of mandatory reading around these parts. People around here have very strong opinions about public land management. You want to get people around here riled up, ask them about the regulations for public grazing land.”

Arthur hummed in agreement and sipped his coffee. 

“So.” She said, looking at him seriously “Pirsig...Abbey… you’re quite the reader then?”

“Naw.” he shook his head. “Not really. I had a… well I don’t really know what to call him…. A mentor, I guess. He was really politically charged. Big reader. He tried to instill some sort of education in me. I guess he succeeded, despite my resistance.” Arthur frowned a little thinking about Dutch. 

“Must have been quite the guy.”

Arthur gave a small laugh “That he was… still is I suppose…. he’s still kickin’ as far as I know, but I haven’t seen him in a few years. We had a falling out.” he paused, thinking. “I….I got real sick a few years ago. Nearly died. Lung cancer. Kinda changed my perspective on things I guess. I’d followed him for years without question. Started thinking for myself when I went through treatment. He didn’t like that so much.”

Maggie nodded knowingly. “Flirting with death has a way of altering the way you see life.” 

“Sounds like you have personal experience with that?” He cocked an eyebrow. 

“I was married.” She stared at her hands “My husband was killed a while back. My whole world fell apart. Might say it sparked an existential crisis. Quit my job, sold everything I owned and took off. Lived on the road for about a year and then I found this place.” She looked around the room fondly. 

Arthur hummed in agreement. “Dutch was basically family for 20 years. He practically raised me. Wasn’t till I got sick that I started to see the holes in his philosophy. I won’t lie… we did some bad things… he had this idea that the ends justifies the means. I’m not so sure about that anymore.” 

They were silent for a while. Maggie gathered the dishes into the sink and Arthur grabbed a rag to dry. They tidied the kitchen in silence. 

Once the kitchen was clean and a second round of coffee was drank, Arthur cleared his throat to get her attention. “ You still want to go grab those truck parts today?” 

She nodded. “Still don’t trust the truck enough to drive the highway. You ever ride a horse before?” 

Arthur gave a low chuckle “Once, many years ago. Riding into town might be a little much for me. How about we take the bike?”

She considered this for a moment and then nodded. 

* * *

Arthur’s bike was a shiny black Triumph Bonneville. He’d bought it the day he finished his final round of chemo. 

Dutch had left him in the dust. Somehow all the years of “Robin Hood” style outlaw life hadn’t extended as far as Arthur’s own health. Cancer treatment had sapped his strength and he was no longer able to fulfill the enforcer role that Dutch had put him in. Their last meeting had been tense. Dutch had tried to slip away unnoticed and Arthur had finally called him on it.

“All them years Dutch…. for what?” Arthur had looked beseechingly into his mentors face but Dutch and refused to meet his gaze. 

“Look son, Micah has some big plans… we could make a lot of money…but I gotta get to Cali right away.” 

Arthur felt Dutch’s words like a kick to the teeth, but something in his gut wasn’t surprised, like there had always been the niggling doubt that he was only worth the money he brought in. 

John has stayed behind. Arthur could hear him yelling at Dutch outside his hospital room. He had cursed so much and so loudly that the nurses had called security. Dutch had slunk away while the guard wrestled John to the ground.

“You’re my brother” John had said to him later, once the dust settled and Dutch had left for good. They had sat in Arthur’s hospital room. Arthur was thin as a rail and wheezed when he breathed. “ I know” he’d replied to John. “I know.” Speaking was painful. Not that he was a man of many words to begin with, but now it really felt like every word had to count. 

They had been silent for a moment. Then Arthur spoke up. “Promise me Johnny. Promise me you’ll get your family out. You, Jack, Abigail… you all deserve better than this life.” 

The pair had always had a tumultuous relationship, but they loved each other as brothers. Beyond Dutch, beyond the gang, it was always the two of them. 

He kept Arthur fed and made sure he had a warm place to sleep after his treatments. Arthur stayed in John’s tiny apartment with Jack and Abigail after surgery, while he learned to breathe again on tattered lungs. Eventually he’d recovered, finished his chemo, and bought the bike. John and Abigail moved to Montana with Jack in tow, looking for a fresh start. Arthur rode into the desert in Texas and stared at the stars. 

His hair had grown back, and he regained most of his size and strength eventually. He never went looking for Dutch, and as far as he could tell, Dutch never came looking for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes Maggie for a ride. Trucks are repaired. Job offers are made. Arthur shares his sketches
> 
> Everything is soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. lots of fluff.
> 
> Comments give me life ❤️

Maggie managed to dig out a spare helmet from the barn. Arthur slung a leg over his bike and fired up the engine. He loved his bike. Every time he started it up, it felt like the first time. 

She scooted on behind him, fastening her helmet under her chin. 

“Ok, hang on tight .” He said over the sound of the engine. She did, her arms snaking around his torso. He could feel her strong hands gripping onto his chest, the warmth of her pressed against his back

He wheeled the bike around and slowly worked his way down the bumpy gravel road towards the highway. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone else on the bike, longer still that he’d been this close to a woman. 

The breeze fluttered over his face as they turned onto the highway. He could feel Maggie’s grip tighten as he accelerated to highway speed. He reflected that he should have asked her if she’d ridden before. He glanced down and saw her knuckles were white, gripping onto his jacket. She seemed nervous but hadn’t made a sound. 

He slowed the bike slightly and Maggie’s grip softened a bit, he could feel her relax against him. Her helmeted head was leaning against the back of his shoulder. 

The day was warm and still. It was midmorning when they reached the junkyard, a fairly typical scrapheap of vehicles, surrounded by a low barbed wire fence on the outskirts of town. 

Arthur cut the engine as they rolled into the parking. Maggie’s hands still gripped his jacket, but the whiteness of her knuckles diminished. Despite the layers of leather between them, it was the closest contact he’d had with anyone that didn’t involve punching or being punched. He’d tried to stay on the right side of the law since parting with Dutch, but his skill set tended to lend itself to a particular kind of job...security, personal protection, the occasional freelance bounty hunt... He had tried, at first at least, to break into something different, but He’d never graduated high school, had no trade ticket, no real reference for an employer to call. Eventually he’d settled into a role much like he had when he ran with Dutch. Be big, look scary, crack the odd skull when needed. 

The trail of Maggie hands down his sides as she slipped off the bike brought him back to the present. A pair of large dogs greeted them at the gate. Maggie scratched each of them behind the ears before walking up to the mobile home that acted as the scrapyard office. 

“Hey Murph.” she called as she opened the door. “You still got that starter for me? 

Murph… or Silas Murphy as he introduced himself to Arthur, was an octogenarian with few remaining teeth. He had the look of someone who had spent the whole life in the desert, somehow mummified by the dry air. He scrutinized Arthur closely when Maggie introduced him “Murph this is Arthur, he’s helping me out on the ranch.” Murph had scowled up at Arthur from under the brim of his battered trucker hat. “Hmmph… this that fella you scraped up at Al’s?” He asked Maggie pointedly. 

“Jesus, people in this town talk to each other too much.” Maggie griped, rolling her eyes. “ Yes, Mr Murphy, this is the man I met at Al’s … and I’ll have you know he’s been mighty helpful so far.” 

“Can’t be too careful with outsiders Magpie.” He looked at her fondly. 

“C’mon Murph, I know what you all used to say behind my back when I first got here. … useless city girl… thinks she can waltz in here and just start farming…don’t think I didn’t hear you, you old coot.”

Murph waved her off “Come on, you want that part or not. Bring your hired man out here and we’ll find it for you.” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Maggie as Murph left the trailer “Magpie?” He said under the breath, his lip quirked into a half smile. 

Maggie rolled her eyes “Don’t start.” She whispered back. 

Murph procured the promised starter quickly, pulled out of a toasted F-100 a few years younger than Maggie’s. 

Murph held them hostage with conversation for nearly an hour. He seemed to be appraising Arthur, asking him all kinds of pointed questions about Arthur’s experience with trucks, where he’d come from, what his plans were… Arthur had no small amount of practice dodging questions like this. He managed to shrug off most of them, keeping his answers vague and nebulous. Maggie stepped away for a moment to look at something across the parking lot. 

Murph turned and stared Arthur dead in the eye “You ain’t foolin me son. That girl, she might not see it but I know you got blood on your hands.” Arthur remained stoned faced, he didn’t reply “I’m watching you boy.” Murph continued. “One toe outta line and this town will rain hell fire on you like you ain’t never known.” 

Arthur set his jaw. “I don’t know what you think you know, but ain’t in that life no more. Just want to live in peace. Not here to cause trouble.” 

Murph eyed him with suspicion but his demeanor softened as Maggie walked back over, one of the dogs jumping playfully up at her. 

“Ok Magpie, you need anything else?”

“Naw Murph I think that should do it. I’ll swing by later this week with your veggies.” She turned to Arthur “We operate on a barter system, me and Murph, parts in exchange for food. Might say we have a symbiotic relationship.” 

“Girl what’d I tell you about usin’ them ten dollar words around me.” Murph laughed. 

Maggie and Arthur donned their helmets, the starter was tucked away in Arthur’s panier, and they headed back onto the highway towards the ranch. 

* * *

That afternoon Maggie tended to chores around the ranch while Arthur worked on the truck. She changed into a light button down sun shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and wore a wide brimmed straw hat to shield her from the sun. She fed the animals, picked eggs from the chicken coup, and went to check on the irrigation equipment. When Arthur finished with the truck, he grabbed two cold beers from the fridge and went to find her in the garden. She was kneeling next to an irrigation head, working on something with a wrench. Her face was streaked with dust and sweat, she’d opened a few buttons on her sun shirt and tied it at the waist, revealing tanned skin underneath. 

“You need a hand with that?” Arthur called as he approached. Maggie looked up at him and he tossed her a beer. 

“I think I just about got it. Thanks though.” 

They sat in the shade by the garden shade, looking out over the crops and sipped their beers. 

“Truck’s all set. I think she’s runnin’ smoother than the first day outta the factory.”

“That’s great. I appreciate your help with that.”

“I’m sure you would’a figured it out without me. Cars aren’t exactly rocket science.

Maggie gave a small laugh. “I don’t know, both cars and rockets involve combustion engines.”

She was quiet for a moment, staring out at a crow flying over the field.  


“So.” She started “You got anywhere to be?” 

Arthur chuckled “Right now? Or in general?”

Maggie shrugged “Both I guess. I don’t mean to pressure you, but I’ve enjoyed your company. Might be nice to have someone around for a while. If you’re looking for somewhere to be, I might be considering bringing on a ranch hand.”

Arthur looked out across the green expanse of the garden, running one finger around the rim of his beer can.

“Can’t think of a reason why not. I got nowhere to be. And that trailer is mighty cozy.” 

She hummed in agreement. “I lived in that little tin can for the better part of a year myself. It makes a pretty good home.” 

He thought for a moment. There was nothing out there for him but more of what he’d been trying to avoid, another dead end gig playing at violence and hoping for something better.

“Ok, let’s say I’m interested.” He turned to look at her. 

“Alright. We’d best set up a proper job interview then.” She turned to face him, her face serious “So Mr Morgan, you’re interested in a position as a ranch hand. What exactly sets you apart from the other candidates?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, Miss French, I’d say my primary qualification is that I’m already on the property, and I don’t mean to name drop, but I know the owner.” He cracked a narrow smile. 

“Mmm that really is an advantage. It’s hard to find good workers that are already staying on the property. I suppose we can start with some sort of probationary period to make sure you're a good fit for the company.” She laughed. “I won’t lie, the work’s hard and I can’t pay much.”

“I’m no stranger to hard work, and pay ain’t a real concern of mine. Hustled for money for longer than I cared to. More concerned about being in the right place for a while.” 

“Alright Mr. Morgan, welcome aboard.” She shook his hand. “Work starts at 5 am tomorrow.”

Arthur grimaced jokingly. “Oof. I’m regretting this already.”

“Don’t worry Morgan, I make a mean cuppa coffee for morning chores.” 

They finished their beers in companionable silence. Arthur helped Maggie pull weeds, and tidy up around the yard. 

He helped her make dinner that night. She put on a record while he chopped vegetables. She swayed along to the music, Robert Johnson, King of the Delta Blues. They ate at her scrubbed wooden table on mismatched chairs. Maggie had opened a bottle of wine “To toast your new job,” She’d said.

* * *

She hadn’t been joking about the 5 am start. She knocked on the door of the boler at 5 on the dot. “Rise and shine cowboy,” she called through the door “Chickens aren’t gonna feed themselves.”

He’d stumbled out the trailer door a couple minutes later to find her on the porch with two large travel mugs of coffee. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took the offered cup gratefully.

“You ever work with animals before?” she asked him

“Had a dog once…long time ago. But no, not really.”

She taught him how to milk the cows, showed him where the horse and donkey feed was, how much to give at what times, and listed off about a dozen chores to complete. Arthur mucked out the stable, brushed down Stevie and Nicks, and placed some alfalfa in the horse feeder. Maggie checked on the chickens and made her way to the garden to make sure her irrigation repairs from the day before had held.   


* * *

Several weeks passed like this. Arthur grew used to the early mornings, and found himself waking up naturally before Maggie knocked on the trailer door. Eventually she didn’t need to knock anymore, some days he woke even before her, and would make coffee for both of them before she made it to the kitchen. He felt an easy comfort with her. She was a patient teacher for farm tasks, and he found it felt good to put his strength to use in a way that created something rather than destroyed. 

With the two of them working on the farm, there was more time for leisure. Arthur would often nap in the afternoon, or sketch in his journal on the porch. Maggie took to playing music, reading, and painting. She had a well used watercolour palette and worked mostly on landscapes. Maggie had opened up to him slowly, sharing little bits of her life before the farm. She had a PhD in geography, her late husband had been an engineer. Prior to his death, they had lived in Vancouver, Canada. He had worked for a large engineering firm and she split her time between teaching at UBC, and freelance industry contracts. He’d been killed in a motorbike crash, taken out by a semi driver who had fallen asleep at the wheel. She’d sold their house and left town, drifting across the country with her Boler trailer before settling down at the ranch a year later. 

“What’re you working on there cowboy?” she’d asked, glancing behind her at Arthur, who was seated on the porch with his back leaning against the house. 

He looked up from his journal. He’d been sketching the horses. “Nothin’ really.” he replied. “Just some doodles.”

“Didn’t take you for an artist… though I should know not to make assumptions by this point.” 

“Naw.” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck with one thick hand. “I’m more or less as dumb and dull as I am ugly.”

Maggie scoffed. “You ever looked in a mirror, Morgan? I bet ladies were tripping over themselves to get to you back in wherever it is you’re from.”

He felt a flush rise to his cheeks.

“And as for dumb?” she continued “Please. You’ve read more books by more authors than half the undergrads I taught, and you could out-philosophise just about anyone I know.” 

He grumbled something indistinct.

“Uh uh…” she brandished her paint brush at him. “You’re gonna take this compliment, don’t you try to deflect.” 

“Horses.” he said with a sigh. “I was drawin’ the horses.” 

“Can I see?”

He paused. He hadn’t ever shown his drawings to anyone. Not Dutch, not John, not even Hosea when he was alive. “Yeah ok. Not much to look at though.” She tsked and brandished her brush at him again. Maggie came closer and sat down next to him, leaning into his shoulder to get a good view of the page. 

“Arthur this is wonderful. What else have you been working on?” He smile lit up her face as she looked at the sketch of Stevie.

“Really?” He said incredulously. “ ok…” he flipped back a few pages. A sketch of his bike parked on the side of the highway, another of the swinging doors leading into Big Al’s, a field of cactuses, he flipped back through his book, memories flooding back to him as he gazed over half forgotten sketches. His hands fumbled, he dropped the book. Maggie picked it up and made to hand it back to him. Her eye caught the image on the page and she paused. “who’s this?” She asked quietly. It was a sketch of John, right after he’d crashed his bike. His face had been all torn up and he’d spent weeks in the hospital, barely clinging to life. 

Arthur was quiet, staring at the sketch. “That’s my brother. Well… not really… but we grew up together…. sort of… I mean…” he tried to find the words to describe John without making it a long drawn out story “John” he said finally. “That’s John."

“Geez, he ok? Looks pretty banged up here.”

“Yeah, it was touch and go for a bit when I was drawing this. He lives in Montana now, has a wife and son. They’re doing well last I heard.” Arthur remembers hearing the beeps of various machines hooked up to John's body in the hospital. He remembered the feeling of seeing John’s eyes flutter open after several days in the ICU. It had been a stupid accident. They’d been running from a job gone wrong and had split up. John had piled headlong into a low retaining wall. Somehow the cops hadn’t found them despite the accident.

She carefully flipped the page. A sketch of Charles chopping wood. “And this?”

“Charles. He moved to Canada a few years ago. Went to law school up there actually. Toronto if I remember right. He was always smarter than the rest of us. Always fought for what he believed in. He works on indiginous land rights mostly. Did a bunch of work at Standing Rock. Haven’t seen him for years.” He missed Charles. Apart from John, Charles was the person he missed the most. Of all the complicated characters in his past, Charles was an unequivocally good person. He was driven, disciplined, and hadn’t hesitated to call out Arthur on his bullshit. 

She flipped another page. “Hosea” he said before she asked. “He passed. Few years ago now. He kinda raised me. Real good man, in his own way.” He smiled thinking of Hosea's smooth huckster demeanour. 

Flip. “Abigail. That’s John’s wife. Hell of a woman.” He laughed “He always found ways to rile her up, without even trying. I think she saved him though. They have a son together. Jack must be 10 by now.”

Flip. Dutch’s face peered at him through the page. “Dutch.” He said simply. He gently took the journal back from her and closed it. “I don't much want to talk about him.”

She ran a tentative hand across his shoulder. “I’m not going to pry your history from you Arthur. Your past is yours to keep.” She paused “But I’m here if you ever want to talk. I know your past is… well… people don’t tend to get scars like yours from sipping tea with the queen… but we all have burdens to bear. You don’t need to bear yours alone if you don’t want to.” 

He nodded but stayed silent. Her hand found his and gently squeezed it. He ran his thumb over hers. They sat like that for some time. The sun sank low over the horizon and gave way to inky blackness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets a scare, emotions are expressed, Smut occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Safe sex is good sex kids. This is in no way a good example of condom etiquette.

Arthur woke the next day to the sound of a gunshot. He flew out of bed and pulled his revolver from its hiding place in the back of the cabinet. He burst out of the trailer with his gun drawn. His heart was racing and his gaze darted from side to side trying to find the source of the sound. 

Maggie rounded the barn with a rifle slung over one shoulder, and a dead coyote over the other. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Arthur, standing in his boxers, boots unlaced, hair disheveled from sleep, revolver hanging lax in his hand.

“Jesus Morgan, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Coyotes have been harassing the chickens all week. Finally saw one of the bastards and wanted to solve the issue while I had the chance.”

He breathed deeply to slow his heart rate, and looked sheepishly down at his gun. “Naw, it’s alright, I just forget sometimes that guns are a normal part of country living. Sound of gunfire always makes me think of… well... it doesn’t matter…” he trailed off and walked towards the porch, sitting heavily on the wooden slats of the deck. Maggie dumped the coyote carcass off to the side, and leaned the rifle against the house. She shucked off her soiled over shirt and sat next to Arthur.

“Never really thought to ask if you carried a gun.” she said quietly. “Guess it makes sense, but I still get surprised seeing folks with sidearms. I mean, a rifle kind of comes part and parcel with farming… I’d never even held a gun before moving down here.”

He laughed and ran his hand through his hair to smooth down his bed head. 

“When I heard the shot, I thought.... Thought something might have happened to you. First thing that came into my mind was makin’ sure you were safe. Sounds stupid I know.”

He paused and looked out across the yard, the sun was rising over the hills in the distance. 

“I…” he started quietly. “I really care for you Maggie.” He turned to look at her, her hair, hanging long and loose, looked almost golden in the early morning sun. “These past few weeks have been … good… made me feel like I could belong.” 

She looked him deep in the eye. “You’re a real softie under all that muscle, aren't you.” She raised a hand slowly and brought it up to caress his cheek gently. He breathed out shakily and leaned into her touch. “Mags.” He breathed “tell me it ain’t just me.” He started to lean in towards her. “Please.”

She quirked her lip into a small smile and leaned in to meet him. Their foreheads touched. She stopped a hairs breadth from his lips. He could feel her warm breath on his face. He waited for a moment, expecting her to pull away. When she didn’t, he inched forward and captured her in a soft kiss. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair. 

He wrapped an arm around her, kneading at her waist as he kissed her deeply. Her lips were soft against his. One of her hands trailed down his bare chest, playing with the thatch of hair across his pectorals. He kissed her like a man starved, like she was sustaining him. She responded in kind and he made a muffled sound of pleasure against her mouth. When they parted they were both panting. She looked into his eyes and ran a finger down the line of his jaw. “I don’t mean to alarm you Arthur, but there’s a half naked man on my porch. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” He gave a low growl as she slung one leg over his, bringing herself onto his lap. 

“You want me to get rid of him?” he asked breathlessly, kissing along her neck . 

“Mmmmm…. no, I’m rather happy he’s here.” 

Arthur practically purred, nuzzling and kissing along her long neck. Maggie ran her fingers through his hair and held him close to her. His hands settled low on her hips as he breathed in the scent of her. The warmth of her body shielding his front from the cool morning air. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she whispered into his hair “we gotta get some chores done before the heat hits. Supposed to be a hot one today.” 

He groaned. “You work too hard. Oughta hire on some help.” 

She pulled back to look him in the eye “I did hire some help. Look where that got me.” She had a fond look in her eye and her finger traced small circles on the back of his neck. He leaned in for another kiss, savouring the feeling of her. 

“I’m pretty sure the horses can’t tell time… you really think they’ll mind if breakfast is late.” he murmured. 

She gave a quiet laugh. “You’ll have to be the one to apologize to them.”

He grasped her by the thighs and stood from the porch, lifting her easily, without breaking their kiss. He stepped slowly towards the door as she wrapped her legs around his torso. They stumbled into the house together, his hands sliding up underneath her shirt. He sat her on the back of the couch and stood between her legs, his trembling fingers working to undo the buttons on her shirt. 

“You seem nervous Mr Morgan. I ain’t gonna bite.” she leaned in and nipped at his ear “Won’t bite hard, anyway.”

He let out a loan groan. “It’s been a while. Longer than I care to think about.” He ground into her hips lightly, the slight friction on his hard cock was almost too much to bear.

“You remember how this all works, or do you need a refresher?”

“Naw, I think I remember well enough.” he finally freed the last button and gently shifted the shirt off her shoulders. He worked his fingers onto the button of her jeans and pushed them down slowly. She awkwardly kicked off her pants and ran her fingers lightly across his chest. She hummed with pleasure and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer to her. He lifted her from the couch and made his way towards her bedroom door. 

He hadn’t been into her bedroom before. It was furnished simply, a few pieces of art on the walls, a stack of books on the nightstand. The centrepiece of the room was an antique bed frame piled high with blankets. He lay her gently on the bed and crawled overtop of her.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. “You want me to stop, just say the word. It don’t matter why.” 

“Knew you’d be a gentleman from the moment I saw you.”

He slid one large hand under the thin fabric of her underwear, teasing his fingers through the hair there “What do you like Darlin’?”

“I like everything. Just…. Just touch me… please Arthur.”

“I like hearin’ you say my name like that.”

He slowly traced one large finger down to her entrance, and slid it across her clit. She whimpered at the contact, his finger gliding through the moisture gathered there. He kissed along her neck, and worked his way down her chest, one hand kneading at her breasts, the other working in an out of her slit. He slid himself down her body, and without removing his finger from her began lapping gently at her clit. Her breathing grew ragged. “Jesus Arthur…” she exhaled. He groaned against her, working his tongue against her with firm pressure. She wove her fingers into his hair pulling lightly at the roots, which earned her a low growl. Her legs quivered around him as he worked her closer and closer to her peak. “Please Arthur… please.” she moaned. “I want all of you. Want you inside me.”

He crawled back up the bed, his cock weeping steadily as he slid himself up her body. 

“Condoms?” she exhaled.

“Don’t have any.” he moaned. “I’m clean. Ain’t been with anyone in years.”

“Me too.” she responded breathless. 

“I…” he paused “ I can’t... Chemo made it… I’m sterile. Can’t have kids.” he struggled for the words, his cock felt ready to explode. “Jesus this really isn’t the kind of conversation I was hoping to have in the middle of all this.” She cut him off with a kiss and reached down to wrap her hand around his aching cock.

“I’m ok with this if you are.” she breathed.

He growled and kissed her fiercely. She guided him into her and he shuddered feeling her stretch around him. It felt like heaven. Like he had ascending to a higher plain of being. She twitched around his cock and let out panting moans. He drove into her hard, thrusting like his life depended on it. He saw white when he came, Maggie clutched onto him as he emptied himself deep inside of her. 

He pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to her, his head leaning on her chest. She gently ran her hand through his hair and across his shoulder. They lay there for some time, basking in the afterglow. He traced patterns on her skin with his fingers. 

“This feels like a dream” he said. “Like I’m gonna wake up any minute.”

“If this is a dream Arthur, It’s a pretty good one.” She kissed the top of his head. “Also, if it was a dream we could lay here all day. Unfortunately for us, we still have a farm to run.”

He sighed as she pushed herself up to seated, looking down at him lying beneath her. She brought a hand up to frame his face and he nuzzled into the touch. “How’d I get so lucky?” she breathed before standing and walking across the room to retrieve a bathrobe. 

“C’mon cowboy, we got work to do. I’ll go put the coffee on.”

He sighed and walked out to the trailer to get dressed. The morning air was chilly without Maggie's body warmth against him. In the silence and quiet of his trailer he let out a heavy breath. 

He hadn’t been with anyone since Mary, hadn’t really wanted to be either. His relationship with Mary had been tumultuous. She’d always expected him to change into someone he wasn’t, he never felt adequate around her, like he was her big dumb arm candy. She was the sort of girl who never had to work, she had old family money and a trust fund that paid for whatever she wanted. 

He threw on a pair of pants and a worn t-shirt and made his way into the house. Maggie was standing at the stove frying eggs in bacon grease. He sidled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose into her hair. She made a contended humming sound. “Coffee’s ready” she murmured. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” he said quietly, ghosting his fingers over her torso. He pulled her against him, the length of her back pressed into his chest. 

“Oh yeah? How long?”

“Remember that first day we rode out to the junkyard on the bike? Having you behind me…feeling you against me... god… it was like torture, not being able to hold you.”

She gave a low laugh “Can’t say I didn’t take a little bit of advantage on that ride. I may have held a little tighter than I needed too.” she ran her hand over his. “It’s like something out of a bad romance novel. Big strong fella comes down to help the poor little ranch widow.”

He placed open mouth kisses along her exposed neck. “Poor little ranch widow was doing just fine on her own. I’m just lucky she took pity on me.” 

She gave a low hum while dishing eggs onto two plates. “There’s still breakfast and chores to attend to Mr Morgan. Don’t think that I’m that easily distracted.” He released her with a sigh. 

Arthur filled two cups with coffee and brought them to the table. They ate in companionable silence, Maggie’s ankle wound around his under the table. 

They finished their morning chores like every other day, with the addition of a brief midmorning interlude in the barn when Arthur pressed her against the wall of the tack room, thrusting into her again her name on his lips, pants around their ankles. 

He moved into the house that night, bringing his minimal luggage into the bedroom and stashing it in the closet next to Maggie’s things. That night he fell asleep with her in his arms, they woke the next morning in the same position.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur reconnects with old friends.
> 
> Maggie mourns old losses. 
> 
> Everything is soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to keep some details from the epilogue, but I've set Jack's age at 10. 
> 
> CW: non-graphic discussion of losing loved ones.

The only real change when Arthur moved into the house was that he woke with Maggie in his arms every morning. They still worked hard on the farm together, tending to the animals, caring for the garden, weeding, harvesting, repairing fences and the like. They still sat on the porch together to wait out the afternoon heat, still cooked dinner together. The changes that occurred were small. Maggie would lay her head in Arthur's lap while she read, she would snuggle up behind him when he worked at the stove, he would lean in and give her languorous kisses while she painted. They grew together easily and peaceably. It was a comfort that Arthur had never known. He found himself thinking more and more about a future on the ranch, and less about his past. They passed 6 months in this way, living in the the quiet comfort of the isolated ranch house. They went into town a couple times a week to sell veggies at the local farmers market, and pick up supplies from town. Arthur got to know the locals, whose trust in him had slowly begun to grow.

“You want to take a drive tomorrow?” Maggie asked one night over dinner. “Fella few miles down the road has some young quarter horses for sale.”

“Sure.” Arthur liked horses, it turned out. Maggie had gotten him riding on Stevie several months ago and he’d taken to it well. The aging Bay mare was patient with her initially nervous rider. They used the horses more than the truck for ranch chores, riding out to check on fences and the like. Nicks, the dapple grey was younger and more spirited, but had grown to tolerate Arthur as well. “The girls might like a new friend.”

Maggie hummed in agreement. “Yeah I want to bring in a new face while Stevie’s still around. The old girl can hopefully teach the young one how to behave. Would be nice to have a cutting horse for cattle season too.”

* * *

Cattle drives were still an important part of ranching life, moving cattle from summer to winter pastures on horseback. Maggie had leased a large portion of her land to a cattle farmer as grazing land . Arthur had watched the cowboys drive in the cattle a month previous. Maggie had borrowed a neighbour’s cutting horse for the day to help out. Nicks was too skittish around the herd and Stevie was a bit slow in her old age. She had looked so completely at home in the saddle, galloping across the field to herd in stragglers. It had looked like something out of an old western film, a half dozen cowboys decked out in leather chaps and wide brimmed hats herded the cattle through the desert sun, onto Maggie’s land. If it weren’t for the line of trucks towing horse trailers that had met them at the staging area, it would have been easy to believe that they had travelled back in time. 

The drive had ended with a cookout in the back field. Portable barbecues were set up and coolers of beer were dragged in. Folks chatted animatedly around the campfire and Arthur relished watching her smile, face lit with the glow for the flames. He was happy. It was as simple as that. Maggie had played the mandolin along with a few other musicians, the group singing old country and bluegrass tunes out into the starry night. This felt like the dream that Dutch had tried to sell them so many years ago. It felt like freedom. 

* * *

He and Maggie drove to a neighbouring farm to see the young horses. She spent a couple of hours putting the young horses through their paces, cutting back and forth, changing direction quickly, bring them up to a gallop and back to a walk. She ended up haggling with the owner for a young sorrel quarter horse. They arranged to have the horse brought over in the owners trailer later that week. The ride back to Maggie’s was a bit far given the heat of the day. 

“We’ll need a name for her.” Maggie had mulled on the drive back. “What do you think?”

“Me? She’s your horse, you should name her.” Arthur laughed

“I named the last two. It’s your turn. Naming’s a big responsibility Morgan.” 

He thought for a few minutes. 

“Boadicea.”

“What?” she asked with a laugh.

“Boadicea. She was an celtic warrior queen. Led revolts against the Romans."

“Alright. Boadicea it is. Sometimes you say things and I realize exactly the depths you have Arthur.”

“Glad I can still surprise you.” he smiled to himself. 

Boadicea fit in nicely with with other horses. Arthur snuck them all treats when he thought Maggie wasn’t looking, and scratched them each around their ears. The new girl was a fast learner. Arthur had been heavily involved in the training and the young horse had become very attached to him. She would run towards him for a pat whenever he came into the paddock, nosing into his hand affectionately. 

* * *

They were in town getting supplies one day when Arthur’s cell phone rang. He rarely carried it anymore, but brought it to town in case he and Maggie needed to split up for any reason. He looked at the screen in disbelief. The caller ID read  _ Marston  _ with an old picture of John flipping off the camera. He stared at the phone for a moment. “Who’s calling?” Maggie asked.

“John.” he said quietly. “Ain’t heard from him in ages.”

It rang again

“You gonna pick up?”

Another ring. Arthur slowly hit the button to answer and held the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” his voice was gruff

A moment of silence.

“Anyone there?” he asked again.

“Ummmm…. Hi…. is this Uncle Arthur?” a young voice. “I found your number in dad’s phone…. Ummm… Is this still your phone?”

Arthur smiled and gave a laugh “Is this Jack?”

“Uncle Arthur!” the boy shouted into the phone, Arthur reflexively moved the phone away from his ear and winced.

Arthur laughed “Yeah Jackie It’s me. It’s good to hear your voice kid. Is everything OK?”

Jack started talking at lightning speed, telling Arthur that he was doing a family tree for school but he didn’t really have any family. “I know you aren’t my real uncle but I don’t have any real uncles so I want to put you on my tree I don’t really remember a lot from growing up but I know you taught me to fish and I know that you got real sick and lived with us and Dad misses you even though he doesn’t like to talk about it and Dad doesn’t know that I know how to use his phone.” He ran through the whole sentence without taking a breath. 

“Slow down Jack, slow down, I ain’t going anywhere. How’s your Ma and Pa doin’?”

“They’re OK I guess but they’re real boring most of the time and won’t play with me but I got a dog and I go to school and stuff but school is boring too and I…”

He heard a voice in the background. “Jack, honey, who are you talking to?”

“No one mom.”

“Don’t you lie to me young man.” It was Abigail in the background. 

“Jackie why don’t you put your Momma on?” laughed Arthur. 

“MOM IT’S UNCLE ARTHUR AND HE SAYS HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU.” Jack shouted.

There was silence for a moment, then Arthur heard Abigail’s voice on the line. “...Arthur?”

“Hey Abigail.”

“Wow it’s good to hear your voice.”

“I know I’m sorry. I’m bad at… well, you know.” He trailed off. 

Maggie laid a soft hand on his arm. 

“Would you want to do a proper catch up? I have someone that I want to introduce you to. I know it’s been a long time. But I…. I miss you. Been thinking about you and John a lot recently.”

They planned on a video chat later that week. He thought he could hear Abigail sniff back a tear. “Jack’ll be excited to see you.” She said. “John too, though he won’t say it.”

They’d planned to meet after dinner a few days later. Maggie was clearing up from dinner while Arthur tried to set up her computer. He grumbled to himself about technology as he struggled with the webcam. “Ok old man calm down, I’ll help you in a minute.” She slid in next to him on the couch and he surrendered control of the computer to her “Never did get the hang of this computer stuff.”

“Oh it’s not that difficult, you’re just being ornery” she said with a sarcastic smile.

“Prolly right.” He gave her a fond smile and kissed the top of her head.

They fired up the video chat platform and waited for John and Abigail to connect. 

“When’s the last time you saw them?” Maggie asked. 

“Properly? Geez a few years. They moved to Montana ‘bout 5 years ago, when I finished treatment. Abigail sends me pictures sometimes, keeps me more or less updated on how they are. I ain’t real good at that sorta thing. Speak to John a couple times a year, but I haven’t talked to them since before we met.” 

Maggie rose to retrieve two cups of tea from the kitchen. The video flashed to life with John’s face on the screen. His mouth was moving but there was no sound. Abigail appears next to him, rolling her eyes. She reached across him and fiddled with the keyboard. 

“You gotta unmute it dummy.” Arthur heard her say. 

He gave a small laugh “You never learn do you Marston?”

It was good to see them. John and Abigail were doing well in Montana, They had settled in Butte, and had even managed to put a down payment on a house of their own. Jack had started grade 5 that year, and was doing well in his classes. Jack had waved excitedly to Arthur through the screen, and had hauled his dog, Rufus, in front of the screen. He was a floppy eared golden Lab, who had licked Jack’s cheek happily throughout the video chat.

“Rufus got bit by a snake last week but Dad saved him.” Jack had said excitedly.

“Gonna be paying that damn vet bill for months.” grumbled John. Abigail slapped him on the shoulder.

“Enough.” She said sharply. “You know how much that dog means to the boy.”

The Marston family had bounced around the country for a while after leaving Dutch’s gang, but they seemed to have finally settled. Abigail was working as a cleaner, and John had picked up work as a general labourer. 

“Seems like you’re all doing well.” Arthur said with a smile “Y’all deserve it. Just wish we were closer to each other, you know?”

“Yeah.” sighed John, “Miss you, Brother.”

“Charles came to visit not long ago.” Abigail told Arthur. “He’s doing real good. He’s still technically living in Canada, but I get the sense he’s planning on heading south again. You should call him, he’d love to hear from you.”

They planned to catch up again soon and Arthur sighed when he closed the chat window. 

“They seem real nice.” Maggie said with a soft smile.

“Yeah.” Arthur said, wrapping and arm around her waist. “John used to drive me crazy. Like the little brother I never wanted. But he grew up into a fine man. They deserve a bit of happiness. And Jackie’s had a tough childhood.”

“You should invite them down.” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Door’s always open around here.”

“I might just do that.”

* * *

Arthur woke one morning to find Maggie was not next to him. THe dawn was just about to break, and the house was still cool. He listened for a moment and heard nothing but the silence of the house around him. He rose slowly, and pulled on a pair of pants and a flannel shirt, padding out into the living room on bare feet. She was nowhere to be seen, but he could see steam rising from the coffee maker. He filled a mug and made his way to the porch. She was sitting on the step, wrapped in a blanket, staring out across the property towards the distant hills. 

“Hey.” he said, sitting next to her, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head and wrapping an arm around her. “ Didn’t hear you get up.”

She gave a low hum in reply, fingers playing with the coffee cup in her hand. “Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Everything ok?”

“It’s today.” she said, not meeting his gaze. “4 years since he passed.”

He was quiet, his arm still wrapped around her shoulder.” You want some space today? I’d understand if you did.”

“Might take the trailer out to the back 40 tonight.”

He ran his hand over her shoulder slowly. “Take as much time as you need.”

“Actually.” she paused, looking up at him. Her eyes were red. “Can you come with me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t want to be alone.”

He pulled her close. “ ‘Course. Whatever you need.”

“I...I love you Arthur. Really, I do. But I loved him too.”

“I know.” he said softly. “Lost enough people to know that you don’t just stop carin’ for someone just ‘cause they’re gone.” he was silent for a moment, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you too Mags.”

After they finished with the day’s chores, they hooked the trailer to the old truck and dragged it out into the patch of woods on the edge of the property. Maggie had built a rough campsite out there, with a fire ring, rough hewn table, and a couple of benches. Arthur built a fire and sat next to maggie on the bench, wrapping a blanket around them both. 

“How’re you holding up?”

She huffed a laugh and gave him a weak smile. “Better than last year.”

“What happened last year?”

“A fifth of whiskey and a Death Cab record on repeat.”

“Death Cab? Didn’t have you figured for that kinda gal.”

“Oh believe me Arthur, I was a real emotional indie queen in my day.”

“You wanna tell me about him?”

“You sure?”

“‘Course.” he held her close. “We both have history. I wanna know yours if you wanna share.”

She told him about her late husband, “He was a real nerd, in an endearing way. He used to obsesses about little things. One minute he’d be all about cars, the next was metal forging… it was always something new. He always knew how to make me laugh. A country property was always his dream. He had this idea that we’d make our fortune somehow and be able to retire young somewhere remote.” 

She was quiet for a moment. “I thought my life was over when he died. I wanted to just lay down and die. I don’t know how I kept going, but I’m glad I did. He wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He’d have wanted this for me. This place, this life.” She paused again, “You. He’d have wanted me to meet someone like you.”

“I ain’t tryin’ to replace him Mags.”

“No one can replace him. And no one can replace you.” She looked him in the eye. “I loved him. I still love him. But I love you too. It means a lot that you’re here today.”

He held her tightly to him as the fire crackled brightly in front of them. He held her until the glow of the embers faded into the night. He lifted her easily and carried her into the shelter of the trailer, and held her through the night. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie gets an offer she wants to refuse. 
> 
> Arthur reconnects with an old friend.

Arthur heard a car pull into the long driveway one day around noon. Maggie was out in the garden and Arthur was fixing up lunch for the two of them. There was a knock on the door. Folks in town barely knocked at all, and would know to look for Maggie outside this time of day. He paused, staring at the door uncomfortably. There was another knock. He strode over to the door and opened it slowly. On the porch stood two men dressed in crisp suits. One of the men was tall and slim with slicked back black hair and a manicured beard. The other had salt and pepper hair that had receded into a widows peak, and carried a leather briefcase. They both wore polished Oxford shoes, and dark sunglasses. Arthur distrusted them immediately. 

“Can I help you fellas?” He asked, wiping his hands on his work stained jeans.

“Mr…. French?” The younger of the men asked.

Arthur crossed his arms. “There ain’t no Mr French.”

“We must be in the wrong place. Google maps didn’t even recognize this address, must have gotten it wrong.” The younger man pulled out a smartphone and tried flicking through some screens. “Barely even get service out here.”

“No I reckon you got the right place, but there ain’t no Mr French. Property belongs to  _ Ms  _ French alone.”

He didn’t like the look of the men. They were too pale, too well coiffed to be this far out in the country. They had driven up in a shiny silver Mercedes that was thoroughly out of place next to Maggie’s old trucks. 

The older of the pair sighed. “Is Ms French in?”

“Actually it’s  _ Dr  _ French if we’re gettin’ official.” Arthur continued “She did all that schoolin’ may as well use the proper title I suppose…” He was being ornery on purpose, but he didn’t trust the pair. “I ain’t really much for titles myself, but then again, I don’t have no PhD.”

The younger man rolled his eyes as he slipped the smartphone back into his pocket. “Jesus Christ, she could be Queen French for all I care. Is she home or not? We’ve driven too far for this bullshit.”

The older man coughed to clear his throat and gave the younger man a sharp look. “What my colleague here is trying to say is that we would very much like to speak with the owner of the property. I apologize for his tone, he doesn’t get out of the office very much.”

“Uh huh.” grunted Arthur. “Wonder why. You’d think with his manners he’d be top ‘a the list for diplomatic visits.”

There was an awkward pause. 

“Is she home then Mr….?”

“Morgan.”

“Right. Mr Morgan. Is Ms French around? We need to speak with her.”

“She don’t like strangers on the property much. I don’t neither.” He took a step onto the porch and closed the door behind him to keep the cool air from escaping the house. His arms were still crossed.

“My apologies.” the older man said, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a business card. “Andrew Milton. This is Ed Ross.” He handed the card to Arthur, who turned it over in his hand. It hosted Mr Milton’s name in embossed lettering. 

* * *

Andrew Millton

Attorney at Law

Pinkerton and Associates LLC

* * *

Arthur gave a whistle “Pinkertons eh? Big firm. Even I’ve heard of ‘em. What would a pair of big city lawyers want with Ms French?”

Mr Ross rolled his eyes “You the hired muscle or something?”

“Oh no, She’s more than capable of dealing with the likes of you on her own.” He leaned against the doorframe and adopted a serious, unreadable face that he typically reserved for security jobs. 

Milton gave Arthur a forced smile, evidently trying to keep the peace between Arthur and Ross “We represent a company that has interest in this property and would like to speak to the landowner about it.” 

“She’s got a phone you know. Coulda called.” Now he was really trying to get a rise out of them. “She’s got a computer too… we even got wifi out here. I could never really figure computers myself, but that’s my own problem.” he scratched at his beard as he feigned absentmindedness. 

Ross gave Milton an exasperated glance but was silenced by a scathing look in return. 

Arthur was enjoying the little back and forth. He liked playing dumb sometimes, and he’d met enough men like these two to know how to push their buttons. 

“Andy this yokel’s wasting our time....”

Arthur’s nostrils flared and he narrowed his gaze. He was done playing nice “You watch your tone, Boy. It ain’t real polite to come out here and insult a man in his home. Didn’t that fancy school of yours teach you any manners.” He advanced a step towards Ross. He had no intentions of actually hurting the man, but he enjoyed the look of panic that crossed his face. 

Ross was just about to reply when Maggie rounded the corner of the house with a basket of vegetables in her arms. 

She paused when she saw the scene in front of her, before walking up to join Arthur on the porch. 

“Thought I heard someone drive up.” She said, placing the basket next to the door “You two clearly aren’t from around here. You lost or something?”

“Ms Margaret French I presume?” Smoothed Milton, extending his hand to her. “Andrew Milton. I’m here on behalf of Cornwall Oil and Gas.” She shook his hand. Her hands were covered in soil from the garden and when they parted hands, Arthur could see black smears of dirt left on Milton’s palm. He looked at his hand, and tried to brush off the dirt with his clean hand, attempting to spare his suit. 

“Is that so.” Maggie said with a smile. “I’m pretty sure I made it clear that the only way I’d even entertain your offer is if old Levi Cornwall came to the ranch and helped with chores for a day.” 

Milton gave a polite laugh “Yes, well I think we both know that isn’t going to happen, so here we are.”

“Andy was it?” asked Maggie, still smiling politely.

“Andrew.”

“Yes, well,  _ Andrew _ . I think we both know that asking the richest man in the country to come shovel shit was a way to express my disinterest in your proposal. You lose your sense of humour on the job, or were you born without one?”

Arthur remained silent and stone faced, standing half a step behind Maggie, staring daggers at Ross, who flinched under his gaze. 

“Ms French, I think you’ll find our offer is more than fair. Think of what you could do with that money.”

Ross had had enough “Could buy you a chunk of land much better than this one. You’d think you’d jump at the opportunity to get out of this dustbowl” he grumbled. 

“Some of us  _ chose  _ to live in this dustbowl” Maggie said sharply “I’ve known enough of you corporate types to know what’s happening here. You’ve had things easy your whole life and now someone in charge has forced you out into the dusty hellscape of the desert to argue with some country bumpkin. Believe me If some asshole had forced me into the city, to that shining industrial monolith you call an office building, I’d be feeling out of my element too. Excuse me for wanting the home field advantage when you try to buy my whole life out from under me.” She made the whole statement without the polite smile slipping from her face. 

“Ms French if we could just sit down and have a few minutes of your time, we’ll be out of your hair.”

She gave a sigh “Fine, I suppose you drove all the way out here, the least I could do is offer you a drink.” She gestured to the door and Arthur raised an eyebrow. She patted him on the shoulder. 

“I don’t think your guard dog likes that plan.” said Ross under his breath. 

“Not particularly” Arthur bit back, but he turned and opened the door. “But this is her house.”

Maggie ushered the men in “Boots off at the door gentlemen. Despite what you may think, we don’t live in a barn,”

Maggie directed Ross and Milton to sit at the scrubbed wooden table. Arthur pulled her aside in the hallway with a serious look on his face. “What the hell is going on Mags.” he asked in a whisper. 

She let out a soft sigh and massaged at her temples. “Little bit before you came around I found some surveyors on the property. Started getting calls from the Pinkerton firm on behalf of Cornwall Oil. Looks like I’m sitting on a big oil deposit and they want me off the land so they can do what they want with it.”

Arthur hummed in response. “I take it you ain’t interested in selling.”

“I’ve seen what happens to land when companies like Cornwall get ahold of it. Call me a treehugger, but don’t want that for this place.”

“OK. How’re you going to play this?”

“I’ll let them give me their song and dance. I want to know where they are standing and then we can strategize from there.”

He nodded, and gave her a quick kiss before they both headed back into the living room. 

Milton had laid out several bundles of paperwork on the table. Maggie put on a good smile and listened politely while sipping at a cup of coffee. They were offering an enormous sum of money. Arthur nearly choked on his coffee when he saw the number. 

She thanked them curtly and said that she would let them know, shook both their hands, and showed them to the door 20 minutes later. 

Once the men had left and their car could be heard exiting the driveway, Maggie gathered up the papers they had left and slid them into a drawer out of sight. 

“Jesus that’s a lot of money.” said Arthur breaking the silence.

Maggie was silent but nodded in response. 

“Must be a whole lot of oil down there.”

“You said you have a friend that works on land rights if I remember right?”

“Charles. Yeah.”

“Think he’d mind consulting? I wouldn’t mind a professional opinion on this one.”

Arthur nodded “Been meaning to call him anyway.” 

She pulled him into a tight hug “It’ll be a cold day in hell when Levi Cornwall drills on my land.”

* * *

Arthur rang up Charles the next day from the house phone. It had been a long time since he’d spoken to Charles. Neither man was the sort to start a conversation, which meant they’d been largely out of touch the past few years. 

It rang several times before a deep rumbling voice picked up. “Smith.”

“Hey Charles.”

There was a pause. “... Morgan?”

Arthur smiled. “Good to hear your voice old friend.”

“Jesus it’s been a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Meant to call but… you know…”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They had always understood each other implicitly. Arthur never felt like he needed to explain himself to Charles. 

Charles had finished up school at Osgoode in Toronto a couple of years ago and was working out of a firm up there. Lately he had been spending some time on the road to be closer to the clients he was working with. He’d done some pro bono work for grassroots indigenous groups against Cornwall’s company in the past. 

“Heard you found someone that tolerates you, you old bastard.” he had joked. He had stopped in to see John and Abigail a month previous and Abigail had caught him up on what Arthur was doing. 

“Yep. Not sure what she sees in me, but she ain’t kicked me out yet.”

“Wise woman. You never could see the good in yourself. Need other people to do that for you.”

Charles’ interest was piqued at Maggie’s situation. “Cornwall has the biggest firm in the country on retainer. Not sure what we’ll be able to do, but I’m more than happy to get involved. Anything I can do to make Levi Cornwall’s life harder is work well worth doing.”

* * *

Arthur heard the crunch of wheels on gravel from the paddock and turned to see Charles driving into the yard in a dusty black Jeep, the driver's side window open, one arm hanging out. Arthur hopped up to sit on the fence, pulled his stetson hat off, wiping the sweat off his brow, and watched his friend disembark from the SUV. Charles was dressed in dark jeans, beat up blundstone boots, and a close fitting grey shirt, his hair pulled back in a long crisp braid, the sides of his head shaved closely. He pushed his aviator glasses up to the top of his head and gave Arthur a wide smile “When did you become such a farmer, Morgan?” 

Arthur gave a laugh and looked down at himself. His work pants had been patched several times, and his plaid overshirt had grass and horsehair nearly woven into the fabric. He’d let his beard grow out a bit and his hair had grown long enough to pull into a knot at the base of his head. He looked a far cry from the slick biker that had first offered to help Maggie with her truck. 

He shrugged his shoulder “Suppose so. Country living’ll do that I guess.” Charles walked over and hauled him into a bear hug. Arthur considered himself a big guy, but he always felt small next to Charles. Charles was broad chested, tall, solid. He hugged him back “Good to see you Charlie.” 

“You too old man, you look good…. you look happy.”

“Guess I am.” Arthur mused. “C’mon City slicker, grab your bag, we’ll get you set up inside.”

Maggie had run to town with the truck to grab some supplies and hadn’t returned yet. Arthur grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and tossed one to Charles. He toured Charles around the property, showed him the large garden, and the vegetables that he was particularly proud of. “Carrots are doin’ well so far, and the beans should be ready next week. We took out the peppers a couple days ago. Gonna roast up a bunch to save for winter.” 

Charles laughed a little “If someone had told me 5 years ago that Arthur Morgan would be tellin’ me about his farmers market harvest, I would thought they were high.”

Arthur cuffed him on the shoulder “What, you think I’ve gone soft?”

“Naw, I think you found yourself. Never saw you get this animated about anything back in the day.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Arthur gave a huff. “C’mon, I wanna introduce you to the girls.”

He led Charles over the paddock and gave a sharp whistle. Nicks and Boadecia ran over to the fence, snorting and huffing. Stevie ambled up slowly and pushed the two younger horses out of the way to nose into Arthur’s waiting hand. He ran his hand up her muzzle and murmured softly to her. 

“Stevie here’s the boss. She keeps the younger gals in line. Bo’s a bit young, and a bit rowdy, Think she drives the ol’ girl crazy some days, but they get along alright.” He stepped over and ran a hand across Nicks’ shoulder and handed Charles a couple of sugar cubes from his pocket to give to Boadecia.

The two men stood in silence for a moment, Charles running a large hand over the horse’s back

“Y’know, this place makes me think of that ranch Dutch was always dreaming about.” He said.

Arthur hummed in acknowledgement “Yeah I thought about that.” He paused, looking into the calmness of Stevie’s large eye. “Don’t think he ever woulda been happy in a place like this. He liked the chaos too much. That got real clear near the end. His idea of a ranch was just us chasing’ fool's gold.”

“You know he got picked up right?”

Arthur turned to look at Charles. “What?”

“Last year.” Charles continued. “Him and Micah both. Got in deep running drugs. He called me from lockup. Wanted me to defend him.”v

Arthur clenched his fist, knuckles blanching.

“I turned him down flat. Honestly, I thought I’d be more angry with him, but I just felt… almost sorry for him. He seemed so… deflated. Like he was already a ghost” Charles leaned against the fence post and looked out over the paddock. “You know how he used to give all those speeches when we were getting ready for a job. He used to script them. He’d spend hours trying to figure out the best way to word something, to get us all whipped up.”

Arthur sighed. “Figures. I spent so much of my life on that man, on his… ideals.... Or what I  _ thought _ were his ideals anyway. Turns out it was all a bunch of bullshit.”

The two men leaned against the fence and finished their drinks quietly. 

“I’m glad you’re here Charles. Glad I can share this with someone.”

“Me too Arthur.”

The sun was sinking low over the horizon when Maggie’s truck bumped it’s way into the driveway. 

“Ok old man, time you introduce me to this lady love of yours.”


End file.
